


By Your Side

by oneoneandone



Category: Women's Soccer RPF
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-29
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:21:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28412331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oneoneandone/pseuds/oneoneandone
Summary: It's hard to be apart.It's hard when it's easy.It's even harder when it's not.
Relationships: Ashlyn Harris/Ali Krieger
Kudos: 41





	By Your Side

**Author's Note:**

> **Prompt**   
>  _Ashlyn is injured playing for the pride whilst Ali is in DC with the spirit._

“Wait, what,” Ali says, shaking her head, ignoring the beads of sweat that fly from the hair she’s just freed from its bun.

Ken holds out her training jacket, trading it for the bottle of water in his daughter’s hands.

“There was an incident at the Orlando game, Ashlyn collapsed,” he tells her. “Chris called, they took her to the hospital and they’re running tests. He said he’d get a hold of us when they knew more.”

“Can you–”

“–Your flight leaves in an hour and a half,” he says, anticipating her question, “and I already swung by the condo and picked up your laptop and some clothes. So go shower, kiddo. You’ve got a plane to catch.”

She nods, eyes worried, but focused.

—–

_“Hey, baby,” Ali smiled into the webcam on her laptop, “you look beat. Tough practice today?”_

_The blonde on the monitor sighed heavily. “No, just tired. I haven’t been feeling well–I think maybe I shouldn’t have stopped at that roadside stand for tacos and guac last night.”_

_She had a sheepish look on her face, and there was nothing Ali wanted more than to be able to brush a kiss across the goalkeeper’s cheek._

_“What are we talking here,” the brunette asked, “curling up on the couch with a blanket and Top Gun or face pressed to the cold bathroom tile and begging for someone to put you out of your misery?”_

_It got her a smile and a bit of a laugh._

_“Somewhere in-between. Not quite as bad as that time Abby gave half the team the flu,” Ash answered._

_There was a moment of silence as the two women looked at each other, and then Ashlyn sighed again, shifting in discomfort._

_“I wish you were here, Alex,” she murmured. “You always make me feel better when I’m sick.”_

_Ali felt her heart clench._

_“I know, honey, I know. But next week is your team’s off-week. I’ll take care of you from the moment you step off that plane until the second I have to put you back on it.”_

_And Ashlyn smiled softly._

_“I can’t wait,” she whispered, and by the time they signed off, Ali thought her girlfriend was looking a little better, a little brighter, than when she first saw the blonde appear on her screen._

—–

Her phone starts buzzing as the plane taxis up to the gate, and risking a stern word from the flight attendant, Ali swipes and opens up her messages.

_{Ken: Call me later, keep me updated on how you and Ash are doing.}_

_{Pinoe: Hey, saw vid of your girl’s tumble. Waz up–she okay?}_

_{Chris: bleeding in stomach prepping to take into surgery asap call when at hosp}_

_{Crystal: Ali! tell Harris we luv her <3}_

_{Crystal: (n you too)}_

It’s not much, but it’s something at least. All the brunette knew before boarding was that her girlfriend was in the ER and that the doctors had ordered imaging. Chris hadn’t been able to tell her anything more than that, he hadn’t been at the game. He hadn’t seen what happened.

But it sounds like she’s being taken care of. And that, at least, eases a little of the worry in Ali’s chest.

The seatbelt sign flicks off and people let out a collective sigh of relief, standing up and stretching out their legs. Ali rises, thanking her father and the gods of foresight for giving him the idea to get her a first class ticket. She couldn’t care about the bigger seat or the increased legroom–though the privacy was definitely a plus–but the fact that she was able to disembark before everyone in economy?

It was a godsend.

She types out a message to her almost brother-in-law, telling Chris that he should expect her as soon as she can catch a cab. And to update her on Ash– _is she still in surgery? What did the doctors say?_

And she’s so focused on waiting for the three blinking dots to appear that she almost misses the sign with her name on it.

“Miss Krieger?” a well-dressed woman with close-cropped red hair catches her attention. “Alexandra Krieger?”

“Here,” Ali confirms, stopping in front of the other woman. “Someone sent you for me?”

The woman looks at her phone. “A Ken Krieger,” she says, “Pick-up here, drop-off at Florida Hospital Orlando, does that sound right?”

Ali nods, making a note to thank her father again later, and the woman reaches out a hand to take her bag.

“I’m Gretchen,” the driver tells her, “if you’ll follow me, the car is just through these doors.”

—–

_“Ugh,” Ash grunted as she shifted against the headboard, “remind me again why we like Alex?”_

_Ali smiled on her end of their call, “Because she’s our friend, hon. You catch one of her line drives in practice today?”_

_She could hear the rustle of ice and plastic._

_“Yeah,” the blonde sighed, “during a scrimmage. Went to the ground for it and jammed a muscle, I think. And on top of that, I’m still not at a hundred yet after the tacos from the food truck that shall not be named.”_

_She sounded miserable, and Ali wished, not for the first time, that there wasn’t so much distance between them. That she could see for herself how Ash was doing, because after years together, she knew just how often the blonde downplayed her own injuries._

_If Ash was willing to complain about it, to groan and tell Ali that something hurt, she knew that her girlfriend had to be in serious pain._

_“Just take it easy, Ash,” the brunette asked softly, “and if it’s really bothering you, have one of the trainers look at it. Okay? Yeah, maybe they’ll sit you this week, but at least the rest will help.”_

_Ash was silent for a moment, and then she gave a heavy sigh._

_“I’ll be careful, babe,” she told her girlfriend, “I promise. And if I feel like I can’t play tomorrow I’ll talk to Tom.”_

_It was enough to set Ali’s mind at ease, and she let Ashlyn change the topic after that, talking about nothing and everything for the next several hours. All the little bits of the day-to-day they don’t get to share anymore._

—–

The car is a sleek black Lincoln with heavily tinted windows, and the ride is so smooth Ali barely even notices the other cars on the road. Gretchen navigates surprisingly heavy traffic like a pro, tapping her fingers along to a Rolling Stones song, and she doesn’t try to make conversation, for which the brunette is acutely grateful.

_{ Chris: doc says appendix burst }_

_{ Chris: still in surgery sb out soon }_

_{ Chris: in surg waiting room. saved you a seat. :/ }_

He makes her laugh. He reminds her of Ashlyn, sometimes. The way her sweet girlfriend can somehow always find the most ridiculous thing to say, just the right thing to make her laugh when she needs it.

“The main entrance, Miss Krieger?” Gretchen asks from the front seat.

But she wasn’t listening.

“Miss Krieger,” the driver repeats, catching Ali’s eye in the rearview mirror when the brunette turns from where she’d been looking out the window at the brilliant colors of the sunset, “would you prefer to be dropped at the main entrance or somewhere else?”

“No,” Ali tells her, “the main entrance is fine. Thank you.” 

And within minutes, Gretchen is pulling the car up in front of the hospital, hopping out and hurrying around the car to open Ali’s door in a way that looks effortless.

“I hope everything is okay with Miss Harris, Miss Krieger,” she says after retrieving Ali’s bag from the trunk. “Oh, no. The tip was already taken care of,” the redhead adds, waving away money Ali holds out to her.

As she walks away, she realizes … the woman had known who she was, and why she was here, the whole time.

—–

Chris greets her with a safe, comforting hug.

“Hey, there, Lexalicious,” he says, and she doesn’t punch him in the arm like usual when he tries to call her some ridiculous nickname.

He smells like sandalwood and saltwater, and it’s this that brings tears to her eyes, finally. This smell that is so much like home to her. Like waking up under cool sheets, legs tangled up with Ash’s, and curtains blowing in the ocean breeze. Like every dream she has every night that they’re apart.

“Shut up, Christopher,” she teases him, pulling away. “How is she, out of surgery yet?”

Ash’s older brother shakes his head.

“Nurse came out about five minutes ago though. Said they were wrapping up and that they’d be taking her to recovery soon. It’ll be about an hour before anyone can see her, maybe more.”

Ali nods, and moves to sit down.

“What happened, Chris? I don’t understand. She hasn’t been feeling well the past few days, but it didn’t seem like anything more serious than a bit of indigestion.”

Chris holds out his laptop. “Here, there’s a clip of it on Youtube. Someone uploaded it while you were in the air.”

She takes the computer from him and hits play.

—–

The video is shaky, recorded off someone’s phone, undoubtedly. But she watches as Kristie Mewis sends a ball downfield toward her Breakers teammate. How Steph brings the ball down with a single touch and takes it straight for goal.

Ash comes off her line to intercept, making a sliding tackle to push the ball out toward one of her defenders. But McCaffrey doesn’t stop her run in time, she bowls over the goalkeeper, getting in what looks like a solid kick to the blonde’s abdomen.

Ali sees the way her girlfriend crumples in on herself on the ground, face screwed up in obvious pain. She lays there for a few moments, clutching at her side as she rolls on the pitch. Teammates huddle around her, and for a minute it looks like one of them signals for the coach, the medical team.

But then, true to form, Ash starts to rise.

It’s like watching it happen in the moment, like being there in the crowd, helpless to do anything but watch with her heart beating in her throat.

Her girlfriend grabs a teammate’s hand to steady her, wobbling as she takes tentative steps, and then nods, letting them all know that she’s okay.

One step, another–she starts to jog back toward her line.

But halfway there, Ali watches the blonde collapse. She sees Ashlyn stop, fall to her knees, and lean forward almost until her head touches the ground, and she knows from the look on that normally smiling face–Ash isn’t going to be getting back up again.

—–

Ali watches the video four or five times, watches as the medics come out with the stretcher, watches as her girlfriend is carted off the field. It doesn’t get easier. Seeing Ash fall. Seeing her being so carefully helped onto the stretcher. Seeing how even lifting a hand to try and reassure the crowd was a struggle.

She’s so intense in her focus, she doesn’t notice that a nurse has come into the room, or the be-scrubbed doctor in her wake.

“Mr. Harris,” the doctor says, standing before them, and Ali tries not to notice the blood on his scrubs. Ashlyn’s blood. “If you’d like to step over to some place private, we can discuss the results of your sister’s surgery.”

But Chris stands up, shaking his head. “Actually, I was only the stand-in until Ali arrived. She’s Ash’s official _in-case-of-emergency_. There was paperwork and everything. It was very legalish.”

Ali considers elbowing him, but the need to hear how Ash is doing is stronger.

“How is she,” the brunette asks, hands clenched into sweaty fists.

“Miss Harris is in recovery right now. She came through the surgery like a champ. From what we can tell, she had a case of appendicitis complicated by a receiving multiple blows to the abdomen, likely during the course of practice over the past few days.”

Ali listens carefully, but says nothing. She feels guilty, like she should have seen this coming, like she missed something very important.

“It looks like the collision today actually caused the appendix to rupture. Honestly, Miss–”

“Krieger,” she fills in for him.

“Miss Krieger, as unexpected and shocking as it may have been, it allowed us to intervene sooner than we would have otherwise. Both Miss Harris and Mr Harris indicated that she usually avoids seeing her physician until the it’s unavoidable.

It’s true. Ali rolls her eyes. She’s watched Ashlyn attempt to out-stubborn an illness or a minor injury more than a few times.

“But, she’s going to be okay, right?” she asks, and relief floods her face when he nods and smiles.

“Absolutely. We couldn’t go in laparoscopically, so her recovery time is going to be at least double. Probably around five to six weeks before I’d be comfortable with her doing anything more physically intense than getting the mail, but her prognosis is stellar. She’ll be in recovery for the next hour or so, but I’ll have one of the orderlies take you up to her room.” 

He smiles at her gently, and she feels at ease. Nothing will be okay until she sees Ash for herself, of course, but now that she knows what’s happened, what’s going on, they can come up with a game plan.

They’re good with game plans.

—–

The chair is uncomfortable, and her ass went completely numb over an hour ago, but Ali’s not moving, not risking the possibility that Ashlyn might wake up without her.

Chris had gone home a little over an hour ago, needing to get back so he could take care of the kids while his partner was at work. And both Ash’s parents and her mom had offered to make the drive to Orlando, but she’d told them to wait until the morning. She’d keep them updated if anything happened, but the last thing anyone needed were worried mothers on the road after dark.

So tonight it’s just Ashlyn and her, the blonde still sleeping off the pain medication and anaesthesia she’d been given, and Ali trying to find a position to sit in that doesn’t completely cut off circulation to her lower limbs.

Ash’s breathing hitches, just the slightest, and Ali looks up from her phone, the text conversation she’s having with Kyle.

She watches her girlfriend’s face as she slowly wakes, as she slowly comes back to awareness. It’s something she’s seen a thousand times.

It’s something she’ll never tire of seeing.

Ashlyn crinkles her nose and furrows her brow, eyes closed tight against the soft light of the hospital fluorescents. Her mouth moves like she’s trying to say something, like she’s not quite in control of her lips yet.

Slowly, slowly, Ash wakes up.

And Ali sits patiently, and waits.

—–

“Hmmmm,” the blonde says absently, not quite coherent yet, “morning babe.”

Ali swallows the laugh that threatens to disturb the quiet of the room, and simply lays a hand against her girlfriend’s cheek.

“Not quite,” she whispers, watching Ash blink and blink, until those soft, light eyes are looking back at her. The blonde looks confused, even with the fog still clouding her thoughts. Like she knows something’s not right, but hasn’t quite figured out what doesn’t match up.

“Ali,” she asks, concern rising in her voice, “what’s going on?”

The brunette sees the anxiety reflected in the readouts from the monitors behind the bed, and she takes Ashlyn’s hand.

“Do you remember anything, the game? Getting hit?” she asks, and the numbers on the monitors start to drop again. Tomorrow, or the next day, or a week from now, Ali will think back on this moment. How she was able to see the effect her touch has on the woman she loves, how she can sooth and heal and love all with the warmth of her hand against Ash’s.

The goalkeeper scrunches up her face again, like she’s thinking hard, and nods. “A little,” she says, “there was a lot of pain.” Ashlyn looks a little sheepish, like she knows that maybe–maybe–she could have helped to prevent this.

Ali just rolls her eyes.

“You had appendicitis,” she says, “and between taking that ball during practice earlier this week and getting run over by Steph, your appendix burst. Gave us all a little scare, but the doctor says you’re going to be just fine.”

Ashlyn attempts to sit up a little, but grimaces and moans in pain immediately.

“Yeah,” Ali adds, “about that. Because it burst, they had to do an open surgery. You’re going to be out of commission for about a month-and-a-half. And after, it’ll probably take a little bit before you’re able to train at a hundred percent again.”

But the blonde doesn’t hear her. The pain is shooting up her side; she can’t think of anything but the burning, the searing heat of it.

“Here, babe,” Ali says gently, and reaches for the remote that controls her girlfriend’s painkillers. And then she presses the button, seeing that Ashlyn still cannot focus on anything but the pain.

It seems to work quickly. The brunette can almost see the path it takes through the other woman’s bloodstream, how her whole body just starts to relax, to release the built up tension.

Ashlyn’s smile grows goofy, and when she meets Ali’s gaze, her eyes are free of any discomfort. Instead, they slowly begin to droop–a combination of exhaustion and morphine–and soon her whole body seems loose, free.

She clumsily reaches for Ali’s hand, and starts playing with her girlfriend’s long, strong, painted fingers.

“Your nails’r chipped,” the blonde murmurs, a slight slur to her words, as if her tongue is too heavy to properly form the sounds. “L’fix it ‘morrow.”

“Oh, honey,” Ali whispers, and smiles. Ash on drugs is soft and smiley; she reminds the brunette of a new kitten, ready to curl up and be snuggled.

Then there’s silence, and after a minute or two, Ali thinks she must be almost asleep.

“You gave me a scare, Harris,” she says, barely a whisper, and leans in to place a tender kiss on Ashlyn’s brow. “You’re pretty lucky I love you.”

But she knows the truth.

She’s the lucky one.

“Love you too.”

The words float in the air, like dandelion seeds held by the pregnant breeze.

And for the first time all day, Ali knows, everything is going to be okay.


End file.
